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Keeping Up

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The Doctor was perturbed.

He was used to rushing through everything, with his companions barely keeping up. Intellectually and physically, he was used to being miles ahead of his admittedly still quite bright and fit friends.

This new one was confusing. He wasn't as clever as the Doctor but he was pretty close. And he knew it. Not only that, but he was fast, agile and had extraordinary hand-eye coordination. He dodged laser bolts, caught grenades before they hit the ground and threw them right back, and loped easily along beside the Doctor as they were chased by their enemies. And he never did what he was told.

That wasn't the worst part.

The Doctor had always had a taste for adventure, and usually by the time his companions were begging for a trip to the Eye of Orion, or Florana, or just a good night's sleep, he was still itching to throw himself into the next adventure.

The Doctor was worn out. They'd saved four civilisations, escaped death eleven times, and possibly inspired a small religion, all in the space of three days. He couldn't even remember everything they'd done last week.

'Do you think it might be a time for a bit of a break?' he asked, after they had escaped the most recent army of sword-wielding brutes, thrown themselves through the TARDIS doors and dematerialised.

Julian Bashir grinned at him. 'Yes, why not?' he said, cheerfully. 'Shall we say ten minutes, and then off again?'

The Doctor sighed.